


Every Good Story Begins (and Ends)

by sapphose



Series: Sisters of Sparta [2]
Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: Epistolary, F/M, Trojan War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:34:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25710697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphose/pseuds/sapphose
Summary: Helen and Clytemnestra, now married and living apart, write letters to stay in touch. Helen makes a choice.
Relationships: Agamemnon/Clytemnestra (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Clytemnestra & Helen of Troy, Helen of Troy/Menelaus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Helen of Troy/Paris (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Series: Sisters of Sparta [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1864660
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	Every Good Story Begins (and Ends)

Dear Clytemnestra,

Congratulations, congratulations, congratulations on the birth of your little Orestes! Tell me what you want as a gift and I’ll send it in the hundreds.

Also give my love to Iphigenia, Electra, and Chrysothemis. I can’t imagine how much they must have grown since I saw them last! I got Iphigenia’s letter and her penmanship has greatly improved. She asked me about the old stories, of when Menelaus was courting me, and how many suitors I had. Maybe keep an eye on that one; she’ll be a young woman soon, after all.

I think of you, surrounded by your children, and my heart is so full it could burst. I know how much you’ve wanted this, and you deserve all happiness.

You asked in your last letter why I don’t write about Menelaus. There is nothing to write. He is the same as he ever was. I am sure he would write you himself, but you know how he is with words.

I suppose there is one piece of news. We have a new visitor in court. His name is Paris, and he comes from Troy. He entertained the men greatly last evening with a story that I think was about bulls fighting each other, which doesn’t sound like much of a story to me.

Your sister,

Helen

Dearest Helen,

I write this at Orestes’ side, because I can’t yet bear to leave him. I look over at his soft, tiny hands and feel like crying. My fourth baby, and it still feels brand new.

Electra complains that I love her less now, just as she did when Chrysothemis was born, just as I’m sure she’ll do if I have another child. She is so strong and proud and stubborn- she reminds me of you.

Agamemnon and I do discuss Iphigenia’s future, but I cannot imagine marrying her off yet. She is still my baby girl (although of course she is my oldest daughter). When we married at her age, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. But now I can only think about how young we were!

I dreamed about Castor and Pollux last night. I don’t always think of them, but sometimes grief steals up from behind, catching me off-guard. I remember their smiles. I hope that one day Orestes will smile like that. Their memory makes me laugh, and I think that’s what they’d want.

I eagerly await every letter you send, but you don’t quite sound like yourself these days. Remember that you deserve happiness, too.

Love,

Clytemnestra

Clytemnestra,

I’m looking for happiness, I promise. Today I found some listening to Paris talk. He told a silly story about his mother giving him away to a farmer because she already had 19 children and couldn’t stand one more. He made me laugh, and I realized I haven’t laughed in a while. Menelaus isn’t much one for jokes.

I told Paris the story of Castor and Pollux trying to steal the herd of cattle, and the eating contest with Idas. It feels good to talk about them. I watch Paris’s face light up with his smiles and I want to live in that moment forever. Menelaus doesn’t smile much these days, either.

I don’t know what happened between us. It wasn’t sharp or sudden. It happened slowly, minute by minute, slipping away from each other, until one day we woke up and were strangers. I don’t know what he thinks, because he doesn’t know how to say it. And I don’t always want to have to ask.

My love to my nieces, my love to my nephew, my love even to that brother-in-law of mine, but most of all my love to you,

Helen

Helen,

Agamemnon is a strong man. I’ve seen him fight, and hunt. I know he can kill. But he holds our children as if they are made out of glass, fragile and easily broken. When I’m pregnant, he touches me the same way. Delicate. Almost worshipful. He is careful and gentle as if he’s afraid he’ll forget how to be. I watch him carry Orestes with a touch so light I almost begin to fear that he’ll drop him. But then I look at his face and it’s like looking at the sun. He is radiant with pride.

Even when we were wed, I didn’t realize how much love he could hold inside.

I write this because that’s the kind of love you deserve, Helen. Bright and boundless.

Talk to Menelaus. You’ve always been good at talking.

I’m here for you,

Clytemnestra

Clytemnestra,

When I talk to Paris, the words flow out so easily, our sentences overlapping like waves.

When I talk to Menelaus, it feels like a drought. I pour my words out in desperation, and they vanish into soil that looks just as parched and thirsty as before, and yields nothing. A hopeless waste.

He was soft, when we were younger. But I think now he’s turning into something made of stone.

I’m not a very good statute, Clytemnestra, as you know.

Paris told me about never feeling as good as his brother Hector. Is that how you felt about me, when we were growing up?

The funny thing is, I’m envious of you now.

If you dream again about Castor and Pollux, tell them I say hello. I’m not sleeping very well these days, or I’d tell them so myself.

Your sister,

Helen

Helen,

I’m worried about you. Do you want to come for a visit? We’ll talk, like we used to. Better than we used to, actually. You’re right; I was jealous of you, once. I’m not anymore.

I’m torn between two pieces of advice I want to give you (although I know you don’t always like my advice).

The first piece is that if Paris brings you joy, savor it. Taste what it feels like to smile and don’t let yourself forget again. Tell stories and laugh and even sing.

My second advice is to remember that Menelaus is the man you’re married to, and will be your husband even after Paris leaves. Even stone can be softened by wind and rain. Plant a garden of hope and water it until it blooms.

Don’t give up, Helen.

Your nieces would love to see you, and you have a nephew to meet.

Your family,

Clytemnestra

Clytemnestra,

Paris told me a new story today. I want to share it with you, I think. I have to tell someone, and I know that I can trust you.

The story begins on Olympus. Isn’t that where every good story begins? After all, what am I but a story- Zeus’ daughter, the most beautiful woman in Greece- and maybe part of the problem is that after I got married, nothing happened next. Nothing ended, nothing began, nothing moved forward. Not a very good story at all.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Olympus. The gods are celebrating. Let’s say it’s even a wedding. You and I like those, after all. Even though we never got to see Castor or Pollux married.

They didn’t invite Discord. Nobody does. But Eris comes anyway.

She brings a golden apple, one that says “for the most beautiful.” Aphrodite, Athena, and Hera fight about which of them the gift was meant for.

(If it had been you and I, Clytemnestra, we wouldn’t have had to fight about it. Because we would both know the answer isn’t some objective truth. It’s what the giver wants to believe.)

They ask Zeus to choose. But he knows how wrathful a spurned goddess can be. So he selects another judge. A human prince, named Paris, who is being raised by a poor shepherd.

Each goddess, divine in her beauty, comes before Paris and promises him a gift if he chooses her as the winner. (And you can tell it’s a story told by a man, Clytemnestra, because why else would they be so concerned about a man’s opinion?)

Hera offers to make him a king.

Athena offers to make him wise, an unstoppable warrior.

Aphrodite offers him the love of the most beautiful woman in the world.

Paris chooses Aphrodite.

(Can you guess where this is going, Clytemnestra?)

Aphrodite whisks him away to Sparta, and touches the heart of Helen, so that Helen has no choice but to fall in love with Paris.

Paris asks her to run away with him.

By the time you receive this letter, the story will have an ending. I’m just not quite sure what it will be yet.

Forgive me,

Helen

Helen,

I am furious with you.

I think it’s subsided and then I find a new way to be angry at you. I don’t sleep. I don’t eat. I simply seethe.

I’ve never felt rage like this before, and it fills me.

You can never be satisfied, can you? It wasn’t enough that Menelaus promised himself to you, no, you had to have your pick of every man in Greece. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, you leave him for a Trojan! You’re not a story, you’re a person, a selfish person who thinks the whole world is hers for the taking.

You’re taking my husband, Helen.

Do you know that used to be my biggest fear? That Agamemnon would want you more. That one day he’d realize it and would go to your side to beg instead of coming home to me. Until I finally began to think, maybe I really won’t live my life second best to Helen. Maybe I can have my husband, my children, Mycenae- these things can be mine.

I shouldn’t have doubted him. I should have been mistrusting you.

You and your oath. Making every prince swear to protect the claim of your husband. You amassed an army, Helen, and Menelaus won’t let them forget. He’s trying to drag them all off to war with Troy, to take you home or kill you.

If he doesn’t kill you, I might.

There are no men left in Greece because of you.

Agamemnon holds Orestes and I can see that there are tears in his eyes but he refuses to cry. He has four children, and he’s leaving them- leaving me- to go chase after you, because you won’t be happy until everyone else is miserable.

How could you do this to me? How could you write me about gods and golden apples as if you weren’t tearing apart my home stone by stone?

I won’t forgive you. I worried about you and I listened to you and I invited you to my home so you would have a place to come if you needed to leave. You could have done so many things, and you chose to hurt us all. To hurt me. To start a war.

Even when I envied you, I never hated you like this.

I know this letter won’t reach you. But there’s no room left inside me. I can’t hold all this anger in.

-Clytemnestra

**Author's Note:**

> I've always loved Greek mythology, but I learned relatively late on that Clytemnestra and Helen were sisters. As a sister myself, the idea of this relationship fascinates me.


End file.
